


56 hours

by robokittens



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, You're Welcome Richard Hendricks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 16:42:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12303261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robokittens/pseuds/robokittens
Summary: He's saying "Jared, Jared,Jared" over and over again like it's some sort of secret code word. Like it'll open some locked door.Like Jared is opening him.





	56 hours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reserve](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reserve/gifts).



> reserve rolled up on me all like "write me 500 words of rimming go" and 2000 words later ...

They actually kissed for the first time a couple days ago — "a couple," who is he kidding, it's been exactly fifty six hours since Jared kissed him, since Jared apologized preemptively before softly, so gently, brushing his lips against Richard's, since Richard apologized very very sincerely for how hard he slammed Jared's back into the wall while Richard basically attacked him with his mouth.

So fifty six hours, and every kiss since then has felt like the first one. Every kiss has been a heady rush, all the air getting sucked out of Richard's lungs, his normal pulse replaced with a steady thrum of _Jared - Jared - Jared_. Every kiss has — 

"Richard," Jared says, his lips against Richard's neck. He licks a line up the column of Richard's throat. "Your skin tastes exquisite." It's the kind of thing that would sound creepy coming from anyone but Jared, and the kind of thing that sounds even creepier coming from Jared, and also Richard is so hard that his dick is probably going to explode and ruin the mood way more than Jared's serial killer vibes ever could.

"Uh," he says, and laughs a little, breathless. "Thanks?"

"Thank _you_ ," Jared says, and presses tiny bites and kisses to Richard's ear lobe. He kisses Richard's neck again, his shoulder, the jut of his clavicle. It takes a moment for Richard to realize that Jared is working his way downward, a kiss to his sternum, to each nipple in turn. Jared nips at his stomach, and Richard can feel his muscles there leap at the touch. 

His fingers are working, too, tracing down Richard's sides just lightly enough to set him squirming, gripping his hips and holding him in place. Jared noses against the base of his dick and Richard makes a thoroughly undignified noise. He grips Richard's hip harder with one hand and cradles his balls with the other.

"Jared," Richard whimpers. Jared is smiling, Richard is pretty sure Jared is smiling, against his hipbone. Now both his hands are trailing up and down Richard's thighs. 

"I want to taste you," Jared says, or — he says something like that, but his lips are so close to Richard's dick that Richard isn't totally processing. He blew Richard last night, kissed the tip of his dick and then kissed all the way down and — it was incredible, and Richard lasted at least three entire minutes, which honestly was commendable given the circumstances. 

They've basically been making out for an entire day now. They've been — not even fucking, which is probably for the best because Richard isn't sure he's ready for that, but they've been in Jared's incredibly soft bed for pretty much an entire twenty-four hour period interrupted only by Thai delivery and a few bathroom breaks and a period of sleep that honestly lasted entirely too long given the fact that Jared's tongue wasn't down his throat for the duration of it. After the sleeping Jared had tried to make breakfast but apparently the sight of Richard sitting at the kitchen table in nothing but a pair of boxers had been enough to make him burn the bacon, and they'd both ended up managing some milk and cereal before tipping back into bed.

"Turn over," Jared urges, and Richard complies without even thinking about it. He nuzzles at Jared's pillows, which had seemed so crisp and clean when they'd first climbed into bed and which now smell so — so fucking sordid, which, as it turns out, is a great scent. They smell like Jared, who is back at work, leaving a line of kisses across Richard's shoulder blades. He kisses down Richard's spine. 

It's — Richard is, okay, maybe he's projecting but it seems awfully _romantic_. It seems like — they've barely spoken, to be honest, communicating with their hands and their tongues instead of — well. Instead of actually talking. But they haven't said anything about feelings, which is great, because probably Richard is going to blurt out "I love you" any second now. Probably the next time Jared touches his dick.

Jared isn't touching his dick now but he is kneading at Richard's ass, fingers massaging the flesh there. Richard knows that he has an unusually nice ass for someone who just sits on it all day, but he's never really reaped the benefits before. Now he's. Now he's reaping, apparently, because Jared's still pressing little kisses all over his skin, his fingers digging in. 

Jared's thumbs dig into the meat of Richard's ass, pulling him open. Richard gasps, and he can feel the warm, amused breath of Jared's laughter against — against his asshole, Jesus, before Jared kisses him there, too.

There's a part of Richard's brain registering distantly that this is what Jared had meant by "taste you." Rimming, his brain supplies helpfully; that's what this is called; that's what's happening to you.

"Oh," Richard says. Not in response to his brain so much as in response to Jared's tongue dragging up the crack of his ass. He gasps it out: " _Oh_."

He squeezes his eyes shut. Buries his face in the pillow.

Jared licks at him, long and slow and wet, and Richard whimpers. He does it again, and Richard keens. 

Jared huffs out an amused breath, and Richard can feel it. Jared's breath is hot against his skin, cool where it hits the saliva drying there. Jared's saliva, from Jared's tongue, which is — which is back on him, alternating long and slow with short little stabbing licks right up against the bud of his asshole.

Which. Richard is learning a lot about himself right now.

He'd had a girlfriend once who — okay, maybe not a girlfriend per se, but a girl he'd gone out on a few dates with and actually managed to sleep with not once but twice. She'd tried to put a finger up his ass during a blowjob and he'd — not freaked out, exactly, but it obviously wasn't the reaction she'd been hoping for. She'd teased him about his internalized homophobia but, honestly, it had just — felt weird.

This? What Jared is doing now? This doesn't feel weird.

Or it does, but — good weird. Incredible weird. He can feel himself getting wet, slick, Jared's saliva dripping down his thighs. His dick is pulsing precome where it's pressed against the sheets.

"Richard," Jared says, and he punctuates the fact that he's stopped licking Richard's ass with a sharp bite to one cheek, instead.

"Fuck!" Richard says. It's half response to stimulus, half to Jared speaking, maybe a little bit of a — maybe a little bit of a wish.

Jared says his name again. He kisses over the bite mark, licks at it; Richard moans and squirms down into the sheets. "You taste so good," he says. He sits up, sits back. "You should — get on your knees."

"What," Richard says, but his body is scrambling to obey even before his brain has fully registered what Jared is saying. He's on his knees before he knows it, forearms pressed to the bed and his head pressed to his forearms. Legs spread. Ass in the air. Jared makes an appreciative sound.

"You look so good," Jared says. It's — Richard isn't sure if he'd meant to repeat himself but also he doesn't care, because Jared sounds breathless and awed. Like Richard is something holy. 

There's a pun there, somewhere, with holy and asshole, but Richard can't figure it out because by the time he's started thinking about it Jared has his nose pressed to the latter. Like he's — like he's fucking sniffing Richard's ass, and that should be disgusting, this whole thing should be disgusting, but Jared is making these pleased little noises and then he's back to kissing the skin around Richard's hole, sloppy and wet.

"Look at you," Jared says, and he sounds. Happy. Proud. His breath is so, so warm against Richard's ass and he leans in and licks up him again. His thumbs are digging into Richard's ass, really getting a good grip, really pulling him open. 

Jared pulls away; Richard's pretty sure he can feel a string of saliva pull away with him, connecting them, and it should be — gross, it is gross, but also.

Jared's thumb grazes over Richard's hole and he shivers, sensitive. His dick twitches where it's curved up against his stomach.

"Richard," Jared says. Whispers. Croons. He leans his cheek gently against Richard's ass. "Can I touch you?"

Richard makes a choked-off noise. He tries again. "I — Fuck. Yes. _Fuck_."

He shouldn't be surprised to find himself loose, pliable, but it's still somehow shocking when Jared's thumb works itself in him to the nail bed. Jared licks around it and it slips in even further: to the knuckle, to the base. Jared's thumb is inside him, _inside_ him, and Richard thrills to it.

Jared pulls his thumb out, just a little — he's still inside Richard, but — Richard can feel the loss already. His noise of disappointment turns louder and much more enthusiastic when Jared nudges his second thumb up against the first. 

He pulls Richard open. Richard cries out, high and sharp, and then Jared is — Jared is licking at him again, Jared is _fucking him_ with his tongue.

He's not — he's pretty sure he needs to touch his dick, needs _Jared_ to touch his dick, but also he needs Jared to do that without moving his hands at all. Which. Is going to provide some logistical difficulties. He can feel his dick leaking, dripping down onto the sheets. His mouth is watering, his eyes tearing up at the corners.

He can hear himself talking, can hear his own voice but he can't make out his own words. It's Jared, he realizes after a moment: not Jared talking, but himself, saying "Jared, Jared, _Jared_ " over and over again like it's some sort of secret code word. Like it'll open some locked door. 

Like Jared is opening him.

He's speared on Jared's tongue, whimpering and wanton. Jared licks his way deeper and deeper and Richard is losing all control over his body. He's shivering, shaking, making noises he can't identify between turns of pleading Jared's name.

Jared sits back. His thumbs inside Richard don't pull out, but they slacken. Richard barely gasps out a protest.

"Richard," Jared says. He sounds breathless. "Do you know how incredible you are?"

Richard makes a noise that sounds vaguely like "mmmngh."

Jared pulls one thumb out slowly, then the other. The pad of one traces over Richard's hole, delicate; he leans in and licks softly around it.

"I wonder," Jared says, and he pauses. "Do you think." He stops again, sounding unsure of himself. It's — not a good sound, not the way Richard wants him to sound; he hates anxious, unsure Jared, and he especially hates it now — there's no reason, right now, for Jared to be anything but blazingly confident. 

But he sounds — hesitant, bashful almost, when he finally says, "Richard, do you think you can come on my tongue?"

It takes a second for the words to parse in Richard's brain: come on his tongue, come in his mouth, but then no — come from his tongue in Richard's ass. Can he. Could he. Could he come, just from this? Just from Jared touching him like this?

His dick pulses, drools another long stream of precome down onto the sheets. It's. It's not unlikely.

"Jared," he gasps out. It's not exactly an answer.

It seems to be enough, though; enough encouragement for Jared to lean back in, his breath washing hot over Richard's ass. "I love the taste of you," he says, his voice suddenly low and filthy. "I love kissing you all over. I love —" He punctuates each word with a kiss to the base of Richard's spine. "I — love — kissing — you — right —" 

His tongue delves into Richard's ass again. Richard is so _wet_ , so open; when the tip of Jared's thumb follows his tongue it sinks in easily, all the way in. His body is opening for Jared. He feels — this is only going one way, and he knows where it's going. But not — not now; now his hole is clenching down around Jared's thumb, around his tongue. He can feel his balls drawing up tight. His entire body feels like a live wire.

Jared speaks again, his tongue tracing circles around Richard between words. "You feel so — Richard, you taste so —"

" _Fuck_ ," Richard shouts.

They've been making out for an entire day now; Richard has already come more times in short succession than he usually comes in — an entire week, probably, excepting weeks where he's an especially industrious masturbator.

This is. This is something different. Jared's hand isn't on him; his own hand isn't on himself. He's gasping into the sheets, biting down on them. "Fuck," he says, "fuck, _fuck_ ," and then, " _Jared_."

" _Oh_ ," Jared says. He sounds shocked, delighted.

Richard lands right in his own wet spot when Jared flips him, but he can't find it in himself to complain, not when Jared is kissing him joyfully. It — maybe he should complain about that, too, demand Jared go brush his teeth or at least pop an Altoid or something, but that would involve Jared getting out of bed. That would involve Jared not clutching at his shoulders, would involve Jared's skinny chest somewhere other than pressed against Richard's.

And it. It's fucking — a terrible thought. Unconscionable. That Jared be anywhere other than where he is right now. That Richard be without him for even a moment.

It's been fifty seven hours, approximately, since their first kiss. And Richard can't imagine a world without kissing Jared, not anymore.


End file.
